Where darkness meets light
by KeikoHPfan
Summary: After Dumbledore's death, nothing goes as planned. Harry finds himself tricked by the Ministry and forced to bond to another wizard. Will this be the begining of the end for Harry and for what is left of the Order? Or can light really be found in the darkest places? Not DH compliant. Will be slash.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **New story... and new pairing. I won't add the name of the character until next chapter so that you have the surprise. Let me who you're betting on ^^ and leave me lots of reviews!

Oh, only this first chapter - a prologue of sorts - will be in Harry's POV. Enjoy!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry isn't sure how it has come to _this_. His hands are shaking and he balls them into tight fists, trying to hide his terror. Trying to hold on what is left of his dignity.

Everything has gone downhill since Dumbledore's death. Without him, the Order has lost its leader, and maybe its will to fight. The fact that Snape hasn't been on their side after all has been another blow to their already low spirits. The 'rescue' from the Dursleys and Moody's death has been the last straw. Mundungus has disappeared. Remus has gone into hiding with a pregnant Tonks – and Harry has adamantly refused to follow him, no matter how hard the last Marauder has tried to convince him to join them, at least for a few months. They're safer without him – and he has things to do. Not that he'll be doing anything now, but he didn't know it at the time. He's been so naïve.

Scrimgeour has come for him the day after they arrived to the Burrow, while everyone has still been under the shock of Moody's murder and George's injury. Harry remembers what the man has said with bitter clarity. That Harry isn't safe at the Dursleys or at the Burrow. That he's underage – even if only for a few days – and that his legal guardians aren't wizards and thus aren't able to protect him. That it is the Ministry's duty to protect him. Without Dumbledore and despite Molly's and Arthur's protests, Harry couldn't do anything but follow. Everyone would be safer without him anyway, he has thought.

But as soon as they Apparated at the Ministry, Scrimgeour and his two Aurors have taken Harry to a dark room that looks more like a cell than anything else, and the fucking Minister has told him about his plan.

His plan to _bond_ Harry to another wizard. For his protection, of course. The Ministry can't risk losing its best asset, after all.

What a load of tripe.

Harry has asked who he would be bonded to.

Scrimgeour has only smirked and told him that he wasn't sure yet. That he's used the old ways, sending owls to powerful Wizarding families to tell them about Harry's new status as bonding material. And Harry has stopped breathing for a moment, because foolishly, he had thought that maybe it would be a good thing, that Scrimgeour would find someone of the Order to protect him, someone who could help him to do what he has to do, someone who wouldn't hurt him.

But now he understands that Scrimgeour isn't on his side. At all. If anything, the Minister has his own agenda, and it doesn't matter to him who wins this parody of war – because with the Order so weak, with the Ministry so unreliable, there won't even be a battle. They are not even going to fight. The Wizarding World will fall into Voldemort's waiting hands in only a few weeks and it will be over. And Scrimgeour knows it, and he doesn't want to be on the wrong side. He craves power, and power is on the side of the Dark as far as he can tell.

So here he is, the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Waiting for some high ranked Death Eater to take him from one prison only to throw him in another, if he's lucky, or maybe just to give him to Voldemort right away.

Oh Merlin. He's going to die. This is it. He's going to die without even doing what he's supposed to do, without serving his _purpose_. Without having the chance to say goodbye to his friends either.

He's breathing too hard, and he's beginning to feel quite dizzy. When was the last time he's slept or eaten properly? He can't recall, between the nightmares and the Dursleys, it's been weeks – if not months – since he's been really rested. He's so, so tired.

Maybe it won't be so bad to die. He'll be at peace, won't he? And there's a good chance that he'll get to see his parents again. And Sirius. He misses Sirius so much.

He passes out just as the door opens and a dark figure comes in.

The last thing he hears is a soft curse muttered in a deep voice. And then there's only darkness and silence.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **Only two of you got the pairing right! It's obviously not Draco or Severus, since it wouldn't be a new pairing for me... Kingsley would be a nice match, however I do not plan on giving it easy on Harry, and pairing him with someone of the Order would definitely do that (but I keep the idea in mind for another fic!). Someone suggested Lucius... I really have trouble seeing anything good in Lucius, and apart from one fic, I've never read any Lucius/Harry that I found convincing enough.

So congratulations to **Angelsarah22 **and** RiversWild **for guessing correctly! You both may send me either a short prompt for a one-shot, or a request for this story (I'll try my best to integrate it to the story provided that it fits with my storyline!).

And here's the second chapter - please note the change of POV! I hope I did alright with the whole bonding thing, it's not really my cup of tea to be honest! Let me know what you think!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Potter is falling backwards, the movement oddly graceful, and Blaise barely has the time to throw a Cushioning Charm before the slim body hits the ground.

"Scrimgeour, what in the hell have you done to my intended?"

"Nothing, nothing-"

"And why is his face bruised like that? Did one of your goons hit him?"

Blaise removes the hood of his cloak and kneels down next to the unconscious body, noting how thin and pale Potter is. A nasty bruise covers the right side of his face, from his jaw to his cheekbone. There are dark shadows under his eyes and his famous scar is an angry red under the strands of jet-black hair.

"No! We didn't even touch him. He had the bruise when we went to get him."

"I hope for your sake that it's true, because I will not hesitate to sue you if it's not."

Scrimgeour snorts and looks at Blaise with a raised eyebrow. Oh, this is going to be fun, the younger man thinks while slowly standing up.

"I thought it would be someone... more important. You're not in the list that's been given to me, boy."

"It's Mr. Zabini to you, Minister. And you see, there lies the beauty of the wizarding traditions. You have sent word that an orphaned and underage wizard was to be bonded for his protection as by the old ways. Provided that one completes all the required formalities and that the underage wizard doesn't object to the bonding, no one can do anything about it. You can't choose who will bond with Potter. I am of age, I was the first to register as a potential bond mate and I have all the necessary documents here. Unless Potter rejects me and asks for the next suitor, I will bond with him."

"Including the authorization of his guardians?"

"Of course." Blaise frowns at the memory – this particular meeting has been disturbing, to say the least. "Now will you actually fetch an authorized Bonder so that we can get this over as soon as possible? I'd like to go home with my bonded, as I'm sure you understand."

Scrimgeour is quickly perusing over the documents that Blaise has brought. After a few moments, he sighs, his face red with anger, but he knows as well as Blaise does that there is nothing he can do. He gets out, slamming the door behind him, and the sound makes Blaise wince. Honestly, this is the elite of the Wizarding World? What a joke.

Turning around, he kneels once more, gently shaking the unconscious boy by the shoulders.

"Potter! Potter, wake up!"

Potter blinks sleepily behind his hideous glasses, and after a few seconds his eyes widen with surprise.

"Zabini?"

"Yes. Can you stand up?"

Potter does, quickly stepping away from Blaise, his eyes alive with burning anger. It quickly fades, though, leaving only weariness and resignation behind, and Blaise is a bit alarmed to see how defeated the other boy seems to be. That won't do at all.

"It's you they send, then."

Blaise doesn't bother to correct him – there will be time for explanations later. Right now they need to be bonded as quickly as possible and to get out of the Ministry. Blaise isn't sure how much time they have before all hell breaks loose, but it can't be much. Blaise has no doubt that Potter's friends will do their best – or their worst – to get him back, and the Dark Lord isn't known for being patient.

"Look, the Bonder will be there shortly. Just do as I do and everything will be fine, alright?"

Potter laughs harshly, and it sounds bitter and more than slightly hysterical.

"Yeah, right. Everything will be fine."

"Potter, I have seen the other suitors' names and trust me, you don't want to bond with them."

"It doesn't matter anyway." Blaise frowns and Potter shakes his head, closing his eyes for a second before whispering so quietly that Blaise has trouble understanding him at all. "It doesn't matter either way, you or another."

Blaise opens his mouth to answer but the door opens once more, and Scrimgeour enters, followed by an old and wrinkled witch in bright green robes.

"Hello dears. I am Melinda Provintus. I understand that you wish to Bond, is it correct?"

"Yes" Blaise says.

"Mr. Potter? Are you willing to bond with Mr. Zabini here?" The old witch asks gently, and Blaise holds his breath while watching as Potter seems to steel himself before raising his chin almost defiantly. Gryffindor to the core, Blaise thinks with amusement.

"Yes, I am."

"Marvelous! Let's proceed, shall we?"

The witch makes them hold their right hands together before binding them with a thin and shiny magical rope. The thing is strangely warm, though it doesn't burn or hurt, and Potter seems to stiffen even more at the unexpected feel on his skin.

"Mr. Zabini has expressed his wish for a traditional Bonding in spite of Mr. Potter being underage. Though Mr. Zabini will be responsible for Mr. Potter's wellbeing and safety until he is of age, the two of you will be equal partners as soon as Mr. Potter reaches his majority. Do you understand?"

Potter is frowning and the confusion is plain as day on his face, but he dutifully nods.

"Great. Now you will repeat after me. Mr. Zabini first, since you are the elder partner. I pledge myself to you and bond my magic, my soul and my body to yours. Together as one, we will face happiness and grief, health and illness, wealth and poverty, in this world until death do us part, and in the afterlife for our eternal souls."

They say the words, Blaise's voice strong and sure while Harry's is hollow and monotonous.

"Rings?" The witch asks, and Blaise fumbles with his left hand to retrieve the small box from the inside pocket of his cloak. She nods with a smile and casts a spell on the twin golden rings – probably to ensure the rings aren't cursed or anything – before waving her wand in their direction. The magical rope fades away and Blaise slowly releases Potter's limp hand.

"Mr. Zabini, the ring."

"Yes."

He knows what he has to say and he nods to the witch to let her know so before taking Harry's left hand in his.

"With this ring I thee wed and promise to share your sorrows and your joys, to protect you and to care for you. May we walk together through all things, in all times, in all places and in all ways, forever."

Potter seems stunned and his eyes are wide as Blaise slips the ring on his finger, and the old witch has to poke him with her wand to shake the boy out of his daze.

"Do I- Do I have to say the same words?"

"Mr. Zabini has chosen the traditional vows, but you might say something else if you prefer."

"No, it's- I just- it's alright. Could you maybe say it again?"

"Of course dear. Repeat after me, will you?"

He does, his green eyes stubbornly set on Blaise's hand in his. Potter slips the ring on Blaise's finger with difficulty because his hands are shaking so much, but he finally manages it.

"May you live a long and happy life together. So mote it be!"

Blaise tightens his fingers around his bonded's reflexively as the magic suddenly washes over him, and Potter wobbles on his feet.

Time to get out of here, then.

"Well, Minister, it's been a pleasure."

Blaise bows slightly and barely refrains to smirk as a muscle jumps in Scrimgeour's jaw. He then lightly kisses the witch's hand, murmuring his thanks as she giggles before wishing them the best.

Potter follows wordlessly when Blaise takes his elbow and drags his through the endless corridors of the Ministry.

"Hurry up, Potter. It's not safe and you're in no shape to fight."

Potter snorts and looks at him incredulously, and Blaise knows that he doesn't feel safe with Blaise either.

Not that Blaise can fault him for that.

The Ministry Atrium is almost deserted – it's quite late now – and only a handful of fireplaces are open. He pushes Potter in the first one and quickly follows, his hand tightly wrapped around his wand as he yells 'Zabini Manor'.

So far, so good.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **and another chapter already, because it was begging to be written, and who am I to deny my muse anything? So, here you are, please reward me with lots of reviews!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Potter moves forward as if to get out of the fireplace, his face even paler than earlier, and Blaise quickly grabs his upper arm, shaking his head.

"No. That's not where we're really heading."

"What?"

"Zabini's Villa!" Blaise yells instead of answering as he tosses another handful of Floo powder in the green flames, and they're gone again.

They stumble out of the Floo, Potter nearly sending them both to the floor with his clumsiness.

Blaise is relieved to feel the prickling of the wards on his skin. For now, they're safe. His mother should be here shortly, but Potter can't wait for her. He's looking dead on his feet, and keeps his eyes on the thick rug of the living-room.

"Come, Potter. Are you hungry?"

The raven haired doesn't answer, simply shaking his head. Blaise frowns – the boy looks like he hasn't had a proper meal in weeks – but doesn't press the matter further. He'll just have to make sure Potter eats his fill tomorrow, and for now it's maybe better to let him sleep. It has certainly been a long day.

"The bedroom's this way."

Potter stiffens by his side and stops walking altogether.

"Something's the matter?"

"You-you can't expect me to- I mean..."

"What? Oh! Salazar, Potter, I won't do anything to you." Blaise rolls his eyes and Potter is practically radiating anger and humiliation. "I just thought you'd like to sleep. It's already late and you look exhausted."

"Oh yes, it'll be so much better to deliver a well-rested Savior to your master."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Blaise is faintly annoyed now, and he really could do with a few hours of sleep himself.

"I thought you were neutral" Potter whispers, and Blaise snorts.

"Don't be thick. Nobody is neutral. Those who pretend they are are either hiding their true allegiances, or biding their time until they can rally the winning side, whatever it is."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin."

"And you're still seeing the world like a child would, split between good and bad people. It's time to grow up, Potter. There. That's my room. There's an en-suite bathroom and a dressing room. You may borrow whatever you like. Good night."

"Where are you-"

"I am going to sleep in my mother's bedroom. I think we'll both sleep better if you're not worrying on whether or not I'm going to molest you in your sleep. Oh, and don't try to escape. The wards won't let you out, I still have your wand and you have no idea where we are."

Blaise doesn't wait for Potter to answer and quickly makes his way to his mother's bedroom, hoping she won't be mad to find her grown-up son in her bed. He feels tired and irritated, and he's already wondering what the hell he's been thinking.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Blaise wakes up in a far better mood and stretches lazily until he hears a light chuckling sound.

"Mum! When did you get home?"

"A few hours ago. You've been quite busy, it would seem."

"Yes. Did you see him already?"

"I did. He's still sleeping, though."

"And?"

"And what, darling?"

His mother sits on the bed next to him and ruffles his hair.

"You know what. What do you think?"

"It will be quite a challenge, dear. He's... weary. His sleep is plagued by nightmares and dark visions – and I am unsure where those are coming from, since he is definitely not a Seer. He feels betrayed and lonely, and his anger is making him dangerous. He has been hurt so many times... He has known far too much pain already."

"You're worried."

"Yes. I am." Serena sighs, drawing her emerald green silken robes closer to her body. "It will be difficult to gain his trust."

"But?"

"But not impossible. He craves love and affection. He desperately wants a family, a home. He wants to _belong_, more than anything."

"I see."

"I have faith in you. Now come, your bond mate needs to eat and I need your input on his breakfast. He's far too thin and that will not do at all."

Blaise smiles and gets up, following his mother wordlessly.

"And, Blaise? Whatever you do, don't lie to him."

The dark skinned boy once more wishes he had inherited his mother's ability. Being an Empath would certainly have been an asset for what is to come.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Serena Zabini is many things, but a patient woman isn't one of them. By the time Blaise has managed to remember what Harry seems to like for breakfast – thank Merlin for Draco's annoying habit of spying the boy's every move, it comes quite in handy now – and to actually cook it, his mother is practically bouncing with excitement.

Blaise knocks on his bedroom's door before opening the door.

Potter looks up sharply from his spot on the bed, his hair even worse than usual and clad in one of Blaise's pajamas. They are far too big for him and the sight is oddly endearing – a thought that his mother seems to share, if the delighted cooing sound she makes is any clue.

"Hello, darling. I am Serena Zabini, Blaise's mother."

"Mrs. Zabini."

"None of that, dear. Call me Serena. How did you sleep?"

Potter is looking completely bewildered and Blaise snorts.  
"Here, Potter. I suppose you're hungry. Mind if we share? Mum was too excited to meet you to allow me to eat."

Potter shakes his head and gives a weak smile to Serena when she hands him a mug of steaming tea.

"Are those pajamas yours, Blaise?"

"Yes. I didn't want to spend too much time at the Ministry and there wasn't any luggage around." Blaise scowls and munches on his toast. "We would have to buy him new clothes anyway, he's always wearing horrid things that are far too big for him."

"Really? Why is that, dear?"

Potter chokes on his eggs and blushes when Serena helpfully slaps him on the back.

"Erm... I usually wear my cousin's hand-me-downs. He's much bigger than me."

His mother frowns and meets Blaise's gaze, but doesn't comment on it.

"Well, I'm getting dressed and take care of that for you. I'll choose a few things and you'll tell me what you prefer, alright?"

"Er... yes?" Potter answers unsurely, and Serena smiles brightly.

"Wonderful! Well, I'm off boys! Blaise, be a dear and heal that bruise, will you? I'll see you both later."

The door closes quietly behind her and Blaise chuckles at Potter flabbergasted expression.

"And that was my mother. Don't worry, you'll get used to her. I'm going to have a shower. Eat, you need it. I'll try to shrink some of my clothes for you to wear. Then we'll talk."

Potter looks furious for a second – he probably doesn't like to be ordered around – before resignation takes over, clouding his eyes once more.

This is going to be even harder than he expected, Blaise muses as he looks at his reflection in the bathroom's mirror.

"Don't frown, you're going to get wrinkles, handsome!" the mirror chirps and Blaise rolls his eyes.

Hell, he's probably going to get grey hair before his twenties with Potter as a bondmate.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **Thanks for your support on this story, I'm quite in love with this pairing right now! Hope you'll like the rest of the story – for once I almost know where I'm going with this ^^

**Sage and Time:** of course I'll continue this story! I never let any of my stories unfinished, don't worry! I've just spent some time in New York and haven't been able to write for two weeks, plus I actually have 3 WIP at the moment...

With that being said, enjoy and please, review!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Blaise's mind is clearer after his shower, and he purposefully walks back into his bedroom, only to feel his enthusiasm deflate at the sight before him.

Potter is sitting on the edge of the bed, clad in Blaise's less flattering clothes – a white Muggle tee-shirt and sweatpants that he actually uses to work out in the gardens – and staring at his hands, which are resting on his knees. The dark haired boy is looking small and much younger than he is, especially with clothes that don't fit him.

Green eyes suddenly lock with his and Blaise sucks in a surprised breath. Potter is looking at him with barely veiled suspicion – which is good, after all, the Golden Boy is here against his will and has no reason to trust Blaise – and with resignation – which is not good at all. There is weariness and despair coming from Potter in waves, and Blaise hasn't expected that kind of deep-rooted fatigue, that kind of hopelessness. Potter isn't supposed to give up. He's supposed to fight Blaise all the way, to be difficult and angry and a Gryffindor. His mother's words come back to his mind and he sighs inwardly. He will have to plan his every move carefully to gain Potter's trust – but there isn't time, there isn't enough time for that.

Blaise raises his wand and watches with fascination as some strong feeling briefly flashes on Potter's face – has it been fear? Anger? – before it disappears just as quickly. Potter doesn't lower his gaze, though.

"Relax, Potter. I'm just going to heal that nasty bruise."

Blaise whispers the Healing Charm and the Gryffindor's skin loses its bluish tint. A sudden thought occurs to Blaise, and he knows he has to voice it, as unpleasant as it is. He wishes his mother could deal with that part, but he's aware that it has to be him, and why.

"Potter? Do you have any other injury that needs to be dealt with?"

"No" Potter says defiantly, and Blaise snorts.

"Salazar, Potter. You couldn't lie to save your life. Let me see."

"It's not a lie."

"It is. You do have other injuries."

"I do" the dark haired boy admits, and his chin is held high, even if his cheeks are tinged with pink. Blaise is reluctantly impressed – and slightly relieved. If Potter still has his pride, there's hope. "But there's nothing that need to be dealt with, as you put it. I'm fine."

"It's either me or my mother, and believe me, she won't leave you alone until she's certain every hair on your head is healthy."

Potter looked annoyed for a moment, and then he sighs and turns around, dragging Blaise's too big tee-shirt over his head and letting him see his back.

"Fuck, Potter, did those Aurors do that to you?"

"No."

"Then who?"

Potter's too thin back is like a sickening piece of modern art, with blue and purple and green coloring his skin. It can't be the Aurors, Blaise realizes. Some bruises are old, some are more recent. Someone has beaten Potter up _for weeks_.

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes it fucking does! Who?"

"My cousin. And my uncle. »

Blaise feels faintly sick. He doesn't particularly like Potter, but the idea of someone being treated that way by their own relatives makes him want to throw up.

"My mother will have to check you up, this is far beyond my capacity, and there could be internal injuries as well. Fuck. I'm sorry, Potter."

Potter shrugs and puts the white shirt back on.

"I wanted to shrink those clothes for you, but until you're healed I think it's better if they're a bit loose."

"Why do you care anyway? Why are we even here? Just get it over with it!"

Blaise rolls his eyes and sits on the bed, making himself comfortable while he tries to figure out the best way to explain his decision to Potter. _Don't lie to him,_ his mother has said. Then he probably should stay himself and tell things in his own way. Potter would probably find any change in his character suspicious at this point, and rather than reassuring the Gryffindor, Blaise would only convince him that he has some ulterior motives. Which he has, of course, but it doesn't make what he's going to say any less true.

"You seem under the impression that I am going to hand you to the- to Voldemort."

Harry's eyes widen and Blaise silently congratulates himself on calling the madman by his name – or his ridiculous pseudonym, at least.

"Aren't you?"

"You know, maybe Snape has been right all along about you. You're not very quick." Potter scowls and Blaise would laugh if it wouldn't ruin his image. "Honestly, why would I go through all this trouble to deliver you to Voldemort when I could just have done nothing and wait for one of his minions to do the job? Why would I risk my life by bonding with you instead of letting Rabastan Lestrange or Draco Malfoy do as they were told? Everyone knows we're bonded by now, and I'm pretty much a dead man if the Death Eaters find me – or if any of Dumbledore's followers do, for that matter."

"Don't tell me you're not on Voldemort's side. You're-"

"What? I'm what? A Slytherin? Yes, I am, which is exactly why I'm not on his side."

"Yeah, right."

"Honestly, how dense can you be? I don't fancy spending the rest of my life bowing to that thing. I don't want my mother to live in fear – or worse – because of him. Yes, I am a Slytherin. Self-preservation is something important to us. As is pride, and loyalty to our own."

"And blood purity, I guess." Potter snorts, and Blaise suddenly wants to hit him. Which would be counter-productive, of course.

"Oh, honestly. Who cares about blood purity? I'll wager there aren't more than a handful of families that can really say they're pure of blood, if such thing even exists. And when you look at Bellatrix Lestrange, you've no doubt about the links between inbreeding and insanity."

"Voldemort isn't a Pureblood" Potter blurts out, and Blaise blinks.

"What?"

"His father was a Muggle. And though his mother was pure-blooded, she was practically a Squib."

"Are you sure?"

"Certain."

"Fuck. That's quite the breaking news, Potter." Blaise makes a mental note to discuss this point later. "Anyway, there's no way I'll allow anyone to be my master or to mark me. I am not an idiot, and I know that you are, for some reason, our best hope. When I learned about the Minister's quest to bond you before your birthday, I knew it couldn't be good. I replied instantly – and I was right. I saw the names on the list, Potter, and believe me, all of them are Death Eaters."

"So what, you're my Savior or something?"

"No. _You_ are our Savior, and I merely gave you time to prepare yourself." Blaise sighs and rubs a palm against his face. "Look, I know you don't trust me, and I understand it. It would be stupid of you to feel otherwise, frankly. But you need to understand that Slytherins are as different from each other as Gryffindors are. We're not all Draco Malfoy – I understand that he's the one everyone sees and hears, but that's exactly why he's not representative at all. That idiot understands nothing about subtlety, I swear. Anyway, take the Gryffindors: you're not all like Weasley."

Potter cocks his head to the side and slowly nods.

"It's not black and white. It's not as simple. I did what I did because I do believe you're the one who's going to rid us of that creepy madman. No, I didn't do it because it's the right thing to do and it doesn't mean I will hide Muggleborns in my basement anytime soon – though this whole murdering thing is rather disgusting. I'm thinking of my future, and the future of my mother."

"That's… blunt."

"Yes. And that's the truth. In the long run, do my motives really matter? I am willing to help you, and whatever my reasons are, I am your best chance right now."

Potter is looking a bit overwhelmed, and Blaise can almost hear his intern dialog with himself.

Just as the smaller boy opens his mouth to answer, the door bursts open and Serena walks in triumphantly, half a dozen of bags in her hands and a brilliant smile on her face.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **I hope to see more reviews for this chapter (didn't you like the last?) and I'm always open to suggestions if you have some, don't be shy and let me know!

Hope you enjoy this (shorter) chapter, here you are!

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Mum, could you give Pot-Harry a check-up please ? He's got... some injuries that I'm not sure how to heal."

"Injuries?"

Serena immediately drops the heavy shopping bags on the soft cream rug and hurries to Harry's side, who's looking torn between embarrassment and apprehension.

"Where are you injured, caro mio?"

Potter doesn't look at Blaise while he slowly removes his shirt, exposing the horrendous sight of his bruised chest.

Blaise's mother gasps loudly and then she lets out a dozen of curses in Italian that Blaise tries very hard not to hear. Merlin knows his mother can have a filthy mouth and an extensive imagination when she's upset. She kneels in front of the dark haired boy who's still sitting on the edge of the bed, his face deathly pale.

"It's alright, darling. I'll take care of that. I won't hurt you. Blaise? Please go in my room and fetch the salve I keep on the top drawer of my wardrobe, will you?"

Blaise nods and leaves quietly, knowing his mother needs the time alone with Harry to sort out his feelings – and probably to allow him some privacy as well. Blaise is dying to know why the hell Potter's own family has hurt the boy that way and why he hasn't fought back and if someone knows about it but he knows that for now, he needs to let his mother do what she does best. There will be time for questions later. Blaise takes his time to retrieve the salve and slowly makes his way back to his own bedroom. He knocks quietly on the door and waits for his mother's permission to get in.

Potter's dragging the white shirt over his head and Blaise can see that some bruises are still marring his skin – they're probably too deep to be healed properly. His eyes are suspiciously bright and Serena's hand is on his knee, her soft voice urgently whispering something that Blaise can't understand. Serena sighs and stands up, carefully folding her pink robes around her slim body. She turns around to look at him, and even with her dark skin, he can see that she's paler than a few minutes ago.

"I've bought a few things for you, dear. Everything is Charmed to fit, so that shouldn't be a problem. There are a couple of robes, but I also picked a few casual clothes, a suit and several pairs of shoes. Try it on and tell me if it's alright. I'll give back what you don't like, and can pick anything else you may need. Please don't hesitate to ask."

Potter nods, his ugly glasses slipping on his nose, and Blaise frowns.

"Mum? D'you think we could do something about those glasses?"

"Yes, of course. Actually those glasses are not even to Harry's prescription – it's a miracle you're able to see anything, dear. I'll take care of that."

"It's not necessary, I don't-"

"Nonsense, Harry. You need to be able to see if you want to achieve anything. And those glasses are hideous anyway" Blaise says with a smirk.

Potter flushes deeply and bows his head, and Blaise can practically feel his mother _melt _on the spot. The dark skinned boy rolls his eyes inwardly.

"Well, I'll get going now. Have a nice day boys!"

Blaise shakes his head fondly as he watches his mother leave the room.

"She's…"

"Yes, she is."

"I've heard things about her, I mean, I didn't expect her to be like that."

Potter looks away and Blaise tries to remain calm and composed.

"And what have you heard about my mother? That she's a cold blooded murderer? A black widow who's killed at least seven husbands?"

"Well, actually… yes."

"And you believe those rumors, Potter? After everything that's been said about you? Tell me then, how is your relationship with Granger going?"

Potter has the good grace to look ashamed and Blaise snorts.

"My mother is a good and kind woman, as you have seen for yourself."

"What happened to her husbands then?" Potter blurts out, and Blaise can see that if he seems ill at ease, his curiosity has the best of him.

"They died. Of natural causes, despite what people like to say. You see, my mother has a peculiar talent. She's an Empath. She can feel people's emotions, and in most cases, their general health." Blaise sighs and sits next to Potter on the bed. To his credit, the dark haired barely flinches. "My father died when I was a baby. He was a good man, and I think he truly loved my mother and me, but he was… how to put it… generous with his money. My mother soon realized that he left us next to nothing, and we barely survived for a few months. And then she met Jim. He was an older wizard, wealthy and alone. He was kind and he was also very ill. They became friends, and shortly after, they got married. My mother took care of him until the very end, her gift helping her to know what he needed and how he felt. He left us most of his fortune."

"I see."

"You don't. This is how it began. She would meet someone in need of affection and care. Someone who wouldn't have any relatives to take care of them. Someone she could do something for. She makes the last years or months of these men more bearable. She tends to them, she cares for them. And we get the money and the means we need to live in return."

Potter blinks.

"I know. It's a hard concept to grasp for a Gryffindor like you. But… She's not hurting anyone, on the contrary. And she always makes sure we're not taking the money from anyone, that the guy hasn't any family or anything."

"I think I can understand."

"Really?"

"I mean… I'm not sure if I approve, but… I can understand that she wanted you to have what you needed. And… I've seen how she's with you. Even with me."

Blaise relaxes and smiles.

"There might hope for you, Potter."

"Call me Harry, please. I'm just Harry."

"Well, Harry, time for you to try those clothes my mother brought."

"I'm not sure I can accept-"

"Shut up, you're annoying again. Look at the clothes, pick an outfit you like and meet me in the study afterwards. I thinkwe need to talk."

Potter – no, Harry – nods and stands up to take a look at the bags Serena has brought, and Blaise quietly leaves his room once more. Harry needs some time alone to think about everything he's learned since yesterday, and he needs to be alone to enjoy his new clothes.

Maybe they can burn his old ones afterwards.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **thanks to every reader that takes the time to review, it means so much to me! And without further ado, here's the new chapter! R&amp;R please!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Well that's unexpected. Fuck.

Potter – Harry, damnit, it's Harry – is still looking too thin and too tired, but... the clothes are doing wonders for his small frame. The dark blue jeans hug his hips tightly and the soft-looking green jumper enhances his shoulders and makes his eyes stand out even more. Blaise's mother is a genius. He must remember to thank her later.

"I must admit that you're looking half decent, Harry. Please, take a seat."

The boy looks like he wants nothing more to punch Blaise in the face, but he does as he's told and sits stiffly on the edge of one of the chairs in front of the huge desk, that strange resigned mask once again shadowing his features.

"So, before we discuss the particulars of our... association, do you have any question?"

"Are you like your mother? A- an Empath, I mean?"

Blaise blinks. Only years of listening to Draco Malfoy's inane ramblings prevent him from gaping like a goldfish out of water. This is definitely not what Blaise has expected for a first question. Then again, it shows how little he knows Harry to begin with, because this particular question shows the boy is smarter than everyone usually thinks. In this situation, knowing more about Blaise is essential for his survival, and Harry seems to understand it. Blaise almost smiles.

"No. Unfortunately, I am not. As I understand it, this ability is quite rare and the gene responsible for it is recessive, which means the two parents must carry it for their child to be an Empath."

"Oh."

"Anything else?"

"Are you serious about... wanting to help me?"

There's hope and suspicion in Harry's eyes and Blaise can only marvel at how transparent the other boy is. How utterly honest in his emotions – Blaise remembers how easily the boy is angered – or amused, it's always been fascinating to watch in Hogwarts. That's something he will have to work on, though, because it is too dangerous. Way too dangerous in times like these.

"I am. As I told you, I don't fancy being one of Voldemort's little toys. That considered, my choices are limited, really. Either I flee the country with my mother and hope that the rest of the world will remain madman-free, or I do my best to make sure you defeat him. I chose the second option."

"Okay. Let's say I believe you. Will you let me go and do what I have to do?"

"No. But I will help you do whatever it is you have to do – and make sure you don't charge head first without thinking."

"No, I can't- I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone."

Blaise rolls his eyes. Honestly.

"You don't have to tell me everything, you moron. Just enough for me to help you. I understand that there are things I shouldn't know. Just give me enough to plan with you. Let me take care of the practical aspects. Let me give you the means to succeed."

Blaise leans back in his leather chair and lets the words sink in. Harry seems torn, and his eyes never leave Blaise's. The dark skinned boy doesn't look away.

"There are... things I need to go searching for."

"Alright" Blaise carefully says.

"I... I don't know exactly where to look. Dumbledore-" Harry closes his eyes and Blaise can practically feel his pain. He's not sure he'll ever be able to feel that much, and to allow others to witness it. Harry seems to steel himself and goes on. "Dumbledore hasn't had enough time to tell me everything I should know. But... Right, well, I suppose I should explain. I don't have many choices anyway."

"I swear on my magic that I will not betray you in any way. I truly wish for you to succeed and I will do everything in my power to help you. Does that reassure you?"

Harry snorts.

"Yes, well. It's not as if you couldn't lie."

"I'm willing to make an Unbreakable Vow if you wish."

"No! Merlin, no. I-I believe you, to a certain extent, at least."

"Good."

"There are six... objects that I need to find and destroy. There are... important to Voldemort. We already found two of them, and we thought we had the third, but someone had been there before. They left a note, though. But I have no idea how to find them, or if they're still alive."

"Do you know who they are?"

"No. Only their initials." Harry looks up, studying Blaise's face for a moment before he seems to come to a decision. "R.A.B."

"Hum... First name, middle name and last name. Easy enough."

"What?"

"D'you know anything else? About the other objects, maybe?"

"Not really. They're probably precious things. Magical objects, obviously."

"Alright. Well, come on, let's see who that R.A.B. people is."

"And how d'you think we're going to do that?"

"The Wizarding World is a small community. And every adult wizard and witch is registered a the Ministry, Harry. It's easy enough to have the information you want if you know where to ask."

Blaise stands up and motions for Harry to do the same. He finally finds the book he is looking for on one of the upper shelf of the study, and sets it on the desk.

"This is a copy of the Official Register of Wizarding population. Self-updating and all. Very handy."

"I don't suppose it's legal to possess such a thing?"

Blaise grins.

"You're learning quickly. It's quite easy to use: you just touch the cover with the tip of your wand and say the name of the person I'm looking for. Or, in our case, with the initials. Right. R-A-B!"

The pages turn quickly, and soon the book is open, a name shining brightly.

"There he is! Regulus Arcturus Black! Ah, fuck, poor guy is dead. Well, I suppose - Harry? Are you alright?"

Blaise frowns at Harry's suddenly ashen face.

"No – no, that's not... Merlin... If only he had known... But why? He must have changed his mind, he must-"

"Wow, wow, slown down will you, you're not making any sense and you look like you're going to have a seizure."

Blaise gently guides Harry back to his chair before kneeling in front of the distraught boy.

"Is that name familiar to you?"

"Yes. I can't believe... I think I know where we should go."

"Explain."

"My godfather-" Harry's breath hitch a little and Harry takes a shuddering breath. "My godfather was Sirius Black."

"Really? The-" Blaise winces as he almost says 'the murderer'.

"Yes. He was innocent, you know. Regulus was his brother. Sirius told me once that Regulus was every bit the pureblood son, making their parents proud, unlike himself. But that... The note... it means that Regulus changed allegiances, in the end. He stole the... he stole the object we're looking for and probably put it to safety. We have to go to Grimmauld Place."

"Where's that?"

"London. It's the Black family house."

"Lovely, I'm sure." Blaise sighs and nods. "Alright, if you're certain."

"I am. We need to go now, maybe Kreacher knows – it's the old house-elf – he hates me but you're a Pureblood, maybe he'll talk to you and-"

Harry is already up and making his way to the door, and Blaise shakes his head.

"We're not going anywhere right now. What did I say about planning things ahead and not just rushing into danger like the Gryffindor you are?"

"But there's no time-"

"And there'll be no hope if you get yourself caught or killed. Who knows about that house? Who can get in? Can anyone suspect that you'd want to go there at one point or another? Is it watched? Are there wards, and if there are, what kind of wards?"

Harry opens his mouth before closing it just as quickly.

"That's what I thought. Sit down, we've got work to do."

The Boy-Who-Lived scowls but he does sit down, and Blaise barely refrains to smirk.

Risks of being killed or tortured apart, he has the feeling that this is going to be quite diverting.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **And here's the new one! This fiction will follow the general storyline of the Deathly Hallows, but of course with a few changes... I hope you enjoy this chapter, please let me know! See you next chapter!

HP-HP-HP-HP

"So, I think we've got everything covered. My mother will check the house beforehand, and we'll work on some Charms to disguise your appearance a little. Since we're bonded, getting in shouldn't be a problem for me if the wards are still the same and I go with you. But we must make sure the house isn't watched beforehand. I'll have the emergency Portkey by tomorrow, should we need to escape."

"Alright."

Harry seems a little calmer since he knows that they'll be going. Discussing strategy and plans with him has been surprisingly nice, Blaise muses. The boy is smarter than he usually seems, and once his stupid need to rush into danger without thinking first is crushed, he's actually able to make clever suggestions and to have a good understanding to the situation. Perhaps this isn't going to be so difficult after all. Of course he's dying to know exactly what those objects are and why they're so important, but he understands why Harry doesn't tell him.

"Blaise?"

"Yes?"

The green-eyed boy is playing with his fingers and looking at his knees with an unnatural intensity. He's clearly embarrassed about something.

"What will happen for us? I mean, if... if I survive and the war is won and everything... what are we going to do?"

"I am not sure what you mean."

"I mean... Do we have to stay together? You know, like... like a couple?"

"Ah." Of course. Blaise has wondered when this would come up. "A bonding is very different from a marriage, Harry. You can't divorce your bondmate."

"Oh."

"However, it is not unusual for bondmates to live separately, or even to marry someone else. You could decide to marry and have children, it that was what you wanted. We would stay bonded, of course, but it wouldn't affect your everyday life too much. We'd stay in touch and meet from time to time to sustain the bond."

"Like friends?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Right. Good. »

Harry seems so relieved that Blaise is actually a bit offended. Honestly, he's not that bad, is he? Then again he knows that Harry wants a family and normalcy more than anything and probably hopes to marry the Weasley girl and to produce a bunch of children with her. Blaise does his best not to shiver at the thought.

"I wouldn't want you to be stuck with me, you know."

Harry lets out a weird snort and nods with a small smile before making his way out of the study, leaving behind a dumbfounded Blaise.

_Wait, what?_

HP-HP-HP-HP

It has been surprisingly easy to get in the house. Either the Order doesn't think there's anything of value in there, or they don't think Harry will have any opportunity to get there, or both. Although Blais has almost pissed his pants when that Dumbledore look alike thing has come forward, but he's not about to admit it to anyone.

"Merlin's beard, Harry, that house is bloody creepy. No wonder half of the Black family is completely insane."

Harry grins and shakes his head.

"Yeah, it's a wonder Sirius turned out alright."

There's a deep sorrow in his voice and Blaise instinctively reaches out, squeezing the other boy's shoulder once. He doesn't say anything though, because what is there to say? What do you say to an orphan who's lost the only parental figure he'd known after only a few months knowing them? Harry stiffens slightly at the unexpected touch before relaxing and closing his eyes for a moment. Blaise lets him take his time and doesn't remove his hand – he's not exactly feeling at ease but he supposes he shouldn't let Harry know that. Especially not right now.

"Let's go see if we can find Kreacher. He's a nasty little thing, though, so be careful."

"You're Sirius' heir, aren't you?"

"Er... yes, I suppose so. Why?"

"Then you're Kreacher's master. Just call him."

"Fuck, I always forgot about that. Right. Kreacher!"

The ugliest house-elf Blaise has ever met is suddenly before them, a dirty rag covering his skinny body. He bows so low that his hooked nose touches the rug and starts muttering under his breath something about blood-traitors and Masters and shame.

"Lovely" Blaise whispers, and to his surprise Harry chuckles and rolls his eyes.

"Kreacher, this is my bondmate, Blaise Zabini."

The shriveled thing eyes Blaise suspiciously before bowing again.

"Kreacher, where are Regulus' things?"

The house-elf freezes, looking around desperately as if searching for an escape route.

"Answer your Master, Kreacher."

"Nasty Master always asks questions about things that don't concern him..."

"Kreacher! That's enough!"

"Master Regulus' things are in his bedroom."

"Which one is it?"

Kreacher finally leads them to Regulus' bedroom, at the end of a dark corridor on the second floor of the house. There's a small plate on the wooden door reading 'Regulus Arcturus Black' and Harry opens the door slowly, as if he expects someone to be inside.

As it is, the room is empty and dusty, and they spend the next two hours searching through every corner to find the damn locket – without success.

"Fuck! It has to be there..."

"Harry."

"I mean, obviously he could have taken it somewhere else but I had that feeling that he'd have brought it there. It seemed, I don't know, fitting and now-"

"Harry!" The messy haired boy's mouth snaps shut and he looks up at Blaise with wide eyes. "Calm down. We should ask Kreacher if he's seen it."

"What? Oh! Yes, you're right, sorry, I just..."

"It's okay. Come on, let's find that charming house-elf of yours."

Blaise blinks. Twice. He's not sure how exactly it has all happened, but suddenly the old house-elf has told Harry that a wizard with a ridiculous name has stolen the locket. Harry has growled something very unflattering about said wizard – who he apparently knows – and sent Kreacher to fetch him.  
And so here they are in the gloomy kitchen of the damn house, with a bound and pitiful looking middle-aged wizard and a smug looking house-elf – and that particular vision is disturbing, to say the last. The disgusting man is saying something about a woman and all of a sudden it just clicks into Blaise's mind.

"Umbridge."

"What?"

"Think about it, Harry. A short woman in pink clothes, who threatens to sue him and is very interested in a locket that's obviously a dark and expensive magical artifact? It's her."

Harry's eyes meet his and he swears quietly under his breath.

"Fuck."

Well that sums it up rather nicely.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **Another one because it wouldn't leave me alone last night! Hope you'll like it, leave me lots of reviews!

HP-HP-HP-HP

There's some noise behind him and Blaise carefully turns around, his wand already in hand.

"Harry! Step aside, Zabini! At three against one you don't stand a chance!"

Blaise raises both hands in surrender but allows himself to smirk. Weasley is red in the face – and Merlin, but does it clash horribly with his hair – and Granger is looking frantically from him to Harry, apparently trying to figure out what is going on.

"Ron? Mione?"

"Merlin, Harry."

Granger steps forward and hugs Harry, who seems frozen with shock. Weasley hasn't lowered his wand, though, and Blaise is beginning to be annoyed.

"How are you? We were so worried..."

"I'm fine, I'm fine. What... what are you doing here?"

"I've charmed the door to alert me if someone gets in the house without breaching the wards."

"Oh! I see."

"Harry, come now."

"What? Ron, stop. Blaise isn't going to do anything." Blaise almost roll his eyes when Harry moves until the smaller boy is standing before him, shielding him from the redhead. Gryffindors, honestly. "Ron!"

"What the hell did you do to him, Zabini? Harry, get away from him. It'll be alright, we're going to-"

"Ron, shut up, will you? Let Harry talk."

"Thanks, Mione. I'm okay, really. We're actually... doing what Dumbledore asked me to do."

"You told him about the Ho-"

"Ron!" Granger and Harry yell at the same time, and the redhead promptly closes his mouth.

Before Harry can explain further, though, there's a loud pop behind them. Mundungus Fletcher has managed to Apparate out. Blaise lowers his arms and snorts.

"Well, it seems like our informant has left."

"Shit."

"It doesn't matter, we know what we need to know."

Harry looks at him and nods.

"We shouldn't stay here. It's not safe, and I don't trust that stinking thief not to sold us at the first opportunity. We should go home."

"Harry! Don't listen to him! Whatever he's-"

"Oh for pity's sake! Silencio!"

Blaise can't help but snigger as Granger cast the spell on a still very red Weasley. Harry frowns and whispers 'you're not helping your case, you know'.

"Harry, I think Blaise is right, you should go. Look, I've brought some things for you. Dumbledore left those for us in his will. We have no idea what to do with them but I figured you'll need them. I've written what I remember from his will concerning these objects as well. Is there any way to contact you?"

She's obviously fighting tears and Blaise takes pity on her. Well, that, and Harry needs the support of his friends – his mental health is already fragile as it is.

"You may write to him, Granger. Send your owl to Zabini Manor. He'll get it."

"Alright. Harry, are you sure-"

"I'm alright, I swear. It may not be what any of us wanted but I've got help and that's all that matters in the end, isn't it? Please, stay safe, alright?"

"You too. I'll talk to Ron."

Harry nods and Granger hugs him once more, but this time she keeps her eyes open and her brown gaze locks on Blaise's face. She seems to be studying him intently, and he raises an eyebrow. She frowns and shakes her head, a sad expression on her face.

"I've got this for you as well. I know it's bad luck to give presents before the date, but I don't know when I'll see you next, and, well..."

"It's okay. Thank you Mione. You should go guys, it's not safe for any of us here."

"I'll write to you Harry, I promise."

"Alright. Go now."

Weasley is still glaring at Blaise, his wand still in hand, and Blaise blows him a kiss. It's rather entertaining to see the redhead's face reach another shade of crimson. Unfortunately Granger grips the tall boy's forearm and they Apparate away before Blaise can attempt to make Weasley explode.

"We should go as well. Harry?"

"Yes. Yes, let's go."

"You okay?"

"Yes."

Blaise doesn't press the matter further and just curls a hand around the smaller boy's thin wrist before Apparating them away. Once in Zabini Manor, they take the Floo to go home to Zabini Villa. Once there, he wishes his mother was there, because he has no idea what to say – or if he should say something to the distraught boy standing next to him.

"Can we talk about what we're doing next later? I just... I just need to-I..."

"It's alright. Take your time, there's something I need to do anyway."

Harry nods and leaves the room, and Blaise winces. He's not good at comforting people and he knows it. He's trying to figure out what it must mean for Harry to see his friends after everything that happened in the last few days, to understand how his bondmate must feel, but he's never had the kind of bond the Golden Trio seem to share. He's never trusted anyone enough for that.

In fact, his mother is the only person in his life who really knows him. Probably because she's the only one to really love him. And that's alright, really. He doesn't need anyone else. Still, Blaise can't help but think that it must be nice to have such close friends – and as much as he finds Granger annoying and Weasley ridiculous, he can't deny that they seem very loyal to Harry and genuinely concerned about him. Shaking himself from those ridiculously sentimental thoughts, Blaise focuses on his next task.

Time to get revenge, he thinks with a shark-like grin as he steps into the Floo.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Hello" he whispers in the woman's ear. The resulting shriek is very satisfying, even if a bit painful for his ears. He's standing behind her and she's apparently too scared to turn around. Blaise chuckles darkly before sitting himself in the couch, wrinkling his nose at the powerful smell of chemicals and artificial perfumes in the house. Those Muggles are crazy.

"I think you should tell your husband and son to join us."

"We have nothing to say to you! We've signed the papers and got rid of the boy, not if you're not satisfied with him it's none of our business!"

Blaise raises an eyebrow and cast a Stinging Hex at her.

"Call for the rest of your pitiful family now."

She does, and soon enough he's looking at the odd trio that is Harry's family. The aunt is thin and ungraceful, while her husband and son are incredibly fat. They all seem nervous and Blaise lets his smirk widen. The son whimpers and weirdly clutches his enormous backside.

"So. It appears that my bondmate has been less that loved and cherished in your house. I already found it suspicious how easily you signed the papers, considering you never saw me before, and didn't even ask Harry for his opinion on the matter. But imagine my surprise when I collected Harry and discovered he's been beaten up by his own relatives?"

"He's freak! A waste of space that we've been forced to take care of for years! We've only tried to-"

"Taken care of? Let's see how well you've been taking care of him all those years! Incarcero! Legilimens!"

The whale of a man stays frozen, his eyes wide and unfocused as Blaise brutally invade his thoughts. Memories of years of violence, of senseless beatings and constant verbal abuse, of starving and forced chores make him want to throw up and he pulls out of the Muggle's mind with a dry heave.

Blaise stands up and quickly discovers the cupboard under the stairs, its miniscule space and the sickening sight of a small mattress and a few broken pencils.

The Muggles are still standing where he's left them in the living room, and Blaise fights the urge to Crucio them.

"You're lucky that I'm a good guy, you know. Well, that, and I think Harry wouldn't like it if I hurt you too much."

In truth Blaise knows that he can't do anything too drastic – he wouldn't want the Ministry to investigate, after all. He simply cast two spells of the three of them, knowing that it's not enough, not nearly enough, but that he can't do more.

"You're going to be hungry all the time, just like Harry has been while leaving with you. And you're going to be sore all the time, all your muscles and bones will ache-"

"You've no right to do anything to us! The boy only got what he deserved! He's a freak, and a sick little queer apparently and- ow! What was that? What have you done to me?"

"Shut up, you disgusting pig. _You_ are a sick freak. _You_ deserve far worse than what I've done to you. Maybe I'll come back in a few months, when everything will have calmed down. Until then, enjoy the kind of life you've forced your nephew to live."

Blaise gets out of the house before he can lose control and breathes in the fresh air outside. He grins before checking the street and Apparating away.

This has been quite disturbing, to say the least, but the sweet taste of revenge makes it worth it.

Though his mother will probably be quite cross with him, not to mention Harry if he ever hears about it.


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **I am terribly sorry for the delay, but real life has been hectic, plus we've had a very hot weather this past days in France and my brain has melted. Anyway, here it is. I should be updating 'Better than treacle tart' soon, but for the first time ever I'm suffering from writer's block - I know where I want to go, but I have trouble writing the next scene. Hopefully it will clear itself soon enough.

And now, on with the story!

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Hi Mum. Where's Harry ?"

Serena doesn't answer, instead she points something outside. Blaise frowns and leans forward to look out the window. He spots him immediatly, clad in an old tee shirt and some of Blaise's sweatpants, his hair stucking up in every direction and his cheeks flushed with exertion.

"What in Merlin's name is he doing?"

"Running, apparently."

"Yes, thanks Mum, I can see that. But why?"

Serena sighs and her gaze settles on Harry again, who's still running around the gardens.

"He came to me after you left earlier – and we are going to talk about that – and asked if he was allowed to go in the gardens. He said he needed to do something. I suppose that it's his way to release some pression. He was very upset, Blaise. What happened?"

"We ran into his friends."

"I see."

"Weasley wanted Harry to go with them."

"But Harry didn't."

"No." Blaise sighs and tears his gaze away from the window. "I think he understands that his chances are better if he stays with me, but it must have been hard for him not to just flee and join his friends."

His mother hums noncommittaly and Blaise almost snorts at the obvious attempt to make him speak.

"We learned something, at least."

"And?"

"And the next days are going to be interesting."

"Tomorrow is Harry's birthday."

"I know."

"You will have to give him his wand back, Blaise. He'll be an equal partner."

"I know, Mum. Let's hope he doesn't kill me before going back to England then."

"Don't be ridiculous, Blaise. I think we should make a special dinner to celebrate his birthday. It's not everyday that one turns seventeen, and I have the feeling that the poor boy hasn't had many enjoyable birthdays before."

Blaise smiles and suddenly hugs his mother, who squeaks in surprise.

"I love you Mum." His mother stiffens briefly against him before wrapping her arms around her son tightly, and Blaise realizes how long it's been since he's last said his mother that he loves her. How long since he's last held her in his arms, and he feels like shit for not being a better son.

"_Ti amo anch'io, caro_(1). You'll be careful, won't you?"

"I will Mum. I promise."

"And you'll have to keep a close eye on Harry as well. Speaking of which, I should probably ask the gardener to rearrange the path so that Harry can make a full lap around the gardens when he runs."

"Mum... He won't stay, you know that. When it's all over, and if we all survive, he'll go on with his life on his own."

Serena only grins mischeviously, her dark eyes twinkling.

"You never know, Blaise. A lot of things will happen, and none of us know what they'll bring."

Blaise snorts and rolls his eyes half-heartedly.

"And now you are going to tell me where exactly you went and what you did earlier."

Shit.

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One hour later, Harry has apparently run out of energy and finally made his way back inside only to go straight to the bathroom. Blaise's mother sends him to fetch the boy for dinner when he doesn't reappear some time later and so here he is, awkwardly standing in front of his own bedroom, damn it all, and not knowing what would be appropriate.

Should he knock and wait for an answer? Knock and get in? Just get in since it is his fucking bedroom after all, even if he's been sleeping in his mother's bed for the last few days like a toddler after a nightmare. He finally decides to knock briefly and to just get in.

The dark haired boy is sitting on the bed, his arms hugging his legs and his chin resting on his knees.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You okay?"

"Yes, sure. Fine."

Blaise snorts – loudly – and raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, right. Well, anyway, dinner's ready."

"I'm not really hungry."

"I know. But Mum will be very upset and worried if you don't show up and eat at least a little." It's not even a lie, and it's a perfect argument to guilt the Gryffindor poster boy into eating, so Blaise is going to use it. "Besides, we need to decide what we're going to do about Umbrige."

"Right."

"Would you prefer to eat something here? We could discuss our next step without my mother spying on us and worrying about either of us getting killed."

Harry's eyes darken and he frowns.

"It's no joking matter. You shouldn't come with me, I mean, you shouldn't even have gotten involved in the first place, and-"

"Shut up and stay where you are, I'm going to get us dinner."

Serena grins when Blaise tells us about the two of them dining in Blaise's bedroom.

"Oh, really? Of course, of course."

"Mum."

"What?"

"I know you and I know that grin."

"Well, you have to forgive an old woman for hoping."

"Honestly, Mum. You're not an old woman and there's nothing to hope for on this matter."

"_Si, si, capisco_. (2) Now go before your bond mate faints from hunger. And tell him he has to eat the whole plate."

"Will do, Mum."

As it is, Harry eats about half of what is on his plate without much enthusiasm and Blaise doesn't say anything about it. It's awkward enough to have dinner on the rug of his bedroom with Harry without pestering him about his eating habits.

"So, how d'you think you should proceed?"

"Blaise, look, I'm not sure you understand-"

"I would shut up before I finish this sentence if I were you, Potter. Don't fucking tell me I don't understand what I'm getting myself – and my mother – into." Harry seems surprised by Blaise's outburst but wisely doesn't comment on it. "Now our only concern should be to know how we're going to get that locket back. The pink toad will probably have it locked somewhere. At the Ministry, maybe?"

"Think so?"

"Well, where could it be safer? Think about it, the Ministry is probably the safest place to keep such a thing. Umbridge isn't the most talented witch, but she isn't stupid either. She has to know that it's something powerful – and dark."

"Probably, yes. Shit, how are we going to break in the Ministry?"

"Polyjuice?"

"Too risky… Bonded or not, I'm willing to bet that they're looking for me. Polyjuice will not hide my Trace nor will it solve the problem of the wand control."

"You'll get rid of the Trace as soon as you're seventeen, but you're right about the wand."

"I should probably contact Mr. Weasley. He works for the Ministry, I could Floo with him one morning or something and-"

"No!"

"What? Why?"

"Because the Weasleys are probably under surveillance. I can't imagine the Minister not having them watched one way or another, everybody knows how close you are to the family."

And Blaise doesn't want Harry to contact any of the redheads just now because the idiot would probably take the opportunity to flee and then everything would be lost. There's no way he'll defeat Voldemort with a bunch of Weasleys.

"Shit, you're right. It would be too dangerous for them."

Blaise almost rolls his eyes at the predictable surge of worry.

"Right. So I guess I should simply go by myself."

"What? No, absolutely not!"

"You can't go. You can't send any of your friends safely. I can go. They can't do anything to me. I bonded with you legally and it was even their own fucking idea, even if they didn't expect me to come up on top, of course. I'll pretend to have business with one of the departments and try to take a look at Umbrige's office."

"What if someone sees you?"

"I'm a Slytherin, Harry. I don't need an Invisibility Cloak to be sneaky."

"I don't- how do you even know about that?"

"Draco Malfoy can't hold his liquor, and he's been very depressed last year. He's got a big mouth on him when he's drunk. Has come quite in handy one time or two."

Harry seems torn between horror and amusement and Blaise grins.

"Anyway, I don't want you to do that. There a too many unknown factors, we have no idea what the Ministry is like at the moment. What if something happens to you?"

"Then we'll deal with it."

"No, no way, we can't-"

"Harry." Green eyes lock with his and Blaise smiles as gently as he's able to. "This is war. Whether we want it or not, whether we acknowledged it or not, this is war. People are going to be hurt and others are going to die, and there is nothing we can do about it. We might be injured or killed. And we have to accept it and move on, because this is how it is. The only thing we should be focused on is to get those artifacts as soon as possible and get you ready to kill the bastard."

"I know! I know. But, you know… sometimes I just think it's not fair. We're just kids, we're not even real wizards yet and… I'm just…"

"I know. And you're right, it's not fair."

Harry takes a deep breath and seems to steel himself.

"Alright. We've got to get as much information about Umbrige and the Ministry as we possibly can. And I should probably let you know more about those… artifacts."

"Not yet! Not yet. I'll be really glad if you trust me enough to do so, but it would be better for me to know as little as possible until I've come back with the locket. The less I know, the less I will be able to tell if I get caught."

Harry's wide eyes would be comical if he didn't seem that panicked. Blaise doesn't plan on getting caught – and certainly not to say anything even if he is - but one can't be too careful.

"Oh Merlin. Don't get caught. Your mother will kill me and hide my body if anything happens to you."

Blaise bursts out laughing, and Harry grins a bit shyly, and Salazar, but it's good.

HP-HP-HP-HP

_(1)__Ti amo anch'io, caro = I love you too, dear._

_(2)__Si, si, capisco = Yes, yes, I understand._


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **This chapter is very short and I apologize in advance. There are several reasons for it - this is a somewhat 'in-between' scene, because next chapter will be very important and I don't want to mess it up. And I wanted to give you something to chew on before I leave for a few weeks of holidays with my family - meaning I'll be busy with the kids and probably won't be able to write anything.

Next chapter - with Harry's birthday and Blaise's visit to the Ministry - should come till the end of August. In the meantime, enjoy this little treat! See you in a few weeks, let me loads of reviews!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Blaise puts the tray away and sighs, rubbing his knuckles against his tired eyes.

"We should go to bed. Tomorrow we'll see what we can learn about Umbridge and her office and we'll try to organize my little trip to the Ministry. Plenty of fun, I'm sure."

Harry snorts and shakes his head.

"You could... I mean... I feel bad for taking your bedroom, and I'm sure your mother would like to have some space as well, so, I don't know... Maybe I could Transfigure something into a bed..."

The boy is looking extraordinarily uncomfortable and Blaise can't help but grin.

"Or we could share the gigantic bed and both sleep comfortably." Harry looks away and Blaise sighs. "Harry... I won't touch you or anything, I promise" Blaise adds softly.

"I know! I know. It's just... I've never shared a bed with anyone, and it's just... new. I'm sorry."

"Well, don't be. It's alright. We don't have to, I just thought it would be the best solution. And you could always change your mind tomorrow if you're still uncomfortable with it."

Harry just nods quietly, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

"I'm going to bring the tray back in the kitchen and tell my mother that she can have her bed to herself again. You can use the bathroom in the meantime, if you'd like."

"Yeah, thanks."

HP-HP-HP-HP

When Blaise comes back to his bedroom, he's still trying to forget Serena's delighted smile and her not-so-subtle teasing. She was really enjoying this way too much for his liking. Opening the door with a sigh, Blaise is reminded that she might not be so pleased tomorrow when she'll learn about his plan to visit the Ministry. Though maybe Harry's birthday will be enough to distract her for a few hours? Provided everything goes smoothly, of course. He gives a tired smile to Harry, who's sitting Indian-style on the bed and looking as if he would prefer to eat Bubotuber Pus rather than share a bed with Blaise, and goes to the bathroom to have a shower and brush his teeth.

Twenty minutes later, his skin pleasantly warm and clad in his comfiest pajamas, Blaise is feeling a lot better. Harry hasn't moved at all and Blaise smiles gently.

"Come on, it's not that bad. Which side d'you prefer?"

Harry shrugs and stiffly slips under the covers on the right side. Blaise tries to appear as aloof and at ease at possible as he takes the other side, but Harry's obvious reluctance isn't that easy to dismiss. He whispers 'Nox' quietly and puts his wand under his pillow before settling down for the night.

"There. You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Sure?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, for, you know. Being me."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's alright. I'm beat. Good night, Harry."

"Good night."

After a minute or two, Harry murmurs his name questioningly.

"Hum?"

"I just... I just wanted to thank you. I still don't really understand you motives, you know, but thank you for helping me. I'm not sure I could do this on my own, and there isn't anyone I could ask for help without putting them in danger."

_Whereas I am disposable, I suppose_, Blaise thinks with a bittersweet clarity. It shouldn't bother him that much – he has always known what he was getting himself into - but it does, and it makes his insides twist unpleasantly.

"So, well, yes, thank you."

"You're welcome" Blaise answers quietly, and then there's only silence between them, and the warmth of having another body next to his own, and that fucking feeling of being more alone than ever.


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **I am so sorry about the delay! I wanted to post this days ago, but I got caught up with work and kids and busy real life after the holidays, and then my computer decided to play a nasty trick on me and I couldn't open what I wrote, and well...

Anyway, I apologize profusely and here you are! And don't kill me for the cliffy, you know that's how you like it ^^

HP-HP-HP-HP

It isn't exactly bad, waking up like this. Blaise is warm and feels rested. The arm currently resting on his chest is thin but toned, and Blaise watches, fascinated, as the finely shaped bones of the boy's hand move under the soft-looking skin as Harry shifts in his sleep. The other boy has plastered himself against Blaise during the night – apparently he's a cuddler - and the dark-skinned boy would be lying if he said it didn't feel rather nice.

So, no, it isn't exactly _bad_, but it's not really comfortable either. Especially since Blaise really needs to pee – and really needs to get ready for the day before his mother gets up and understands what's going on. He's not planning on staying here for long and hopes that having breakfast with the birthday boy will distract her enough to allow Blaise to do what's needed.

"Harry. Harry, wake up!"

Harry groans and buries his face into his pillow. Damn, this is ridiculous. Why this particular boy should defeat the darkest wizard their world has ever know remains a mystery to Blaise. This too-thin boy, who's looking so young and vulnerable right now. Why him? Yet for some reason it seems to be that way, or at least everyone – including Harry – is convinced that it has to be that way.

The mere idea of Harry facing the Dark Lord turns his stomach. Blaise swallows with difficulty and tries to remember that Harry isn't in fact as fragile as he appears. Harry's strong-willed and resilient, he's met the Dark Lord several times and has always come back alive to tell the tale.

"Harry... Come on, it's your birthday today... Don't you want to see your presents?"

"Presents?"

Harry seems suddenly wide awake, even with his hair sticking up in all direction and his left cheek tinged pink from resting on it for too long. Blaise snorts.

"That would wake you up. I should have known."

Harry flushes and looks away, and then seems to realize how close exactly he's to Blaise. His blush deepens, much to Blaise's amusement – which he knows isn't fair since his own skin is too dark for any eventual blush to be visible, not that Blaise would ever be blushing, of course – and Harry cautiously disentangles himself from his bed companion before sitting up. Blaise almost flinches at the pain clearly showing on Harry's face.

"Sorry. It's just-"

"I know. It's okay. Happy birthday, Harry" he adds softly, and Harry grins, looking slightly less uncomfortable. "The good news is that since you're an adult as of today, the Ministry can't keep the Trace on you anymore. It also means that you're a completely equal partner in our bonding."

Blaise sighs and stands up. Hopefully the foolish Gryffindor won't do anything too stupid.

"And that means that I have to give you your wand back." _Don't make me regret to have chosen that particular bonding_, Blaise fervently prays to whomever may be listening. Wide green eyes keep shifting from Blaise's face to the wand in his hand until Harry takes it with trembling fingers.

The Slytherin in Blaise gives a short burst of alarm at the thought of putting himself at the mercy of another wizard, especially one as gifted as the Boy-Who-Lived, but Blaise knows that Harry wouldn't hurt him intentionaly. His bonded might Stun him and make a run for it, though.

"Oh." Harry swallows and his eyes don't leave the wand in his hand. "Thank you" he breathes, and Blaise shakes his head.

"Come on, Mum will want to shower you in gift and cake. We'd better get ready if I want to reach the Ministry before noon."

"Blaise, about that-"

"We've discussed about it at length, Harry. We're as ready as we'll ever be. I just hope you'll manage to keep my mother busy enough."

"No, Blaise, wait-"

But Blaise doesn't want to talk about this anymore. He's no Gryffindor, alright, and his nerves will not take another discussion about what could possibly go wrong today. And his pride will definitely not survive it if Harry were to realize that Blaise is anything less than cool as a cucumber at the prospect of breaking in Umbridge's office at the fucking Ministry.

"Come on, let's do this."

As Blaise expected it, when Harry and he get out of his – their – room, dressed and ready for the day, Serena is practically vibrating with energy in a barely recognizable kitchen. There are a dozen of presents piled on the counter next to a pile of pancakes, an enormous chocolate cake with candles and what looks like those fancy muffins she likes so much – cupcakes or something.

Harry is gaping, Serena is beaming at them and Blaise is torn between amusement and exasperation.

"Happy birthday Harry! Oh I'm so excited! So, I got you different things since I didn't know what you wanted, well, I suppose I could have asked but I wanted to surprise you! And so-"

"Mum."

"-I thought you maybe would like to have a normal breakfast before the cake so I made pancakes-"

"Mum! Stop, you're making him freak out."

"Oh dear!"

Serena quickly crosses the room and takes Harry in her arms. The poor boy is completely frozen, his eyes wide and his mouth slack. Blaise snorts and snatches a pancake from the plate before pouring coffee into his favourite mug. This is going to be funny.

Half an hour later, they're all full with cake and pancakes and Harry is sitting on the tiled floor amongst his presents, carefully unwrapping them one after the other with precise gestures and making little happy noises (and yes, it's freaking cute and bit weird too), and Serena is babbling about what she has chosen for him – books and clothes and new glasses and Merlin knows what else – and Blaise takes it as his clue to leave.

He moves silently around the room, looking back only once to meet Harry's bright eyes – full of guilt and fear but resolute enough. Blaise nods and hears Harry asking Serena about one of the books as he leaves the room. Hopefully the boy will be able to play his part.

Though Blaise shouldn't worry about that, he muses as he steps into the hearth of the living-room. The Floo powder seems to burn the skin of his closed hand and he has to take a deep breath to calm himself. He's no Gryffindor, after all. That type of reckless – not to mention suicidal – missions isn't his thing at all.

It's too late for second thoughts anyway.

And maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of him is eager to do something like that, so stupidly risky, so un-Slytherin, so foolishly brave.

Blaise closes his eyes to yell his destination, and tries not to think why exactly he wants to prove himself like that. Or who he's trying to impress.

HP-HP-HP-HP

As he stumbles out of Floo hours later, blood pouring from his wound and dark dots dancing before his eyes, he's not so sure about his capacity to make sensible decisions anymore.

This has to be the stupidest thing he's ever done.

Apart from bonding with the Boy-Who-Lived under the nose of the Dark Lord and the Order of the Phoenix alike, that is.


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **A shorter chapter in Harry's POV \- because Blaise isn't available, and it felt right at this point! Enjoy and please, please, review?

HP-HP-HP-HP

_Harry watches, petrified, as Serena pours some kind of potion into Blaise's wound. He watches as she fights tears, kneeling on the soft carpet next to her injured son. He watches as Blaise breathes too shallowly, his face unnaturally pale, his body shaking with the shock. There is blood on his clothes, on the carpet, on Serena's trembling hands. Harry wishes he still had his old glasses, because everything is too clear, every detail is printing itself into his mind with sharp edges and vibrant colors, and there is no way he will ever forget it. No way he will ever forget what he has done to Blaise._

_"Shh, shh, caro, you've been Splinched... Non muoverti" Serena says urgently, and Harry has to choke back a sob._

_Serena is talking to him now, but he can't understand the words. Finally he gets that she wants him to Levitate Blaise while she holds her son's arm to avoid further injury, and he manages to do so, carefully guiding the now unconscious boy to their room. Serena draws the comforter back and Harry gently lets Blaise on the bed. Harry watches as the mother arranges her son's body until he seems comfortable enough. Serena gasps as something falls from Blaise limp hand, and she takes the object with trembling fingers._

_"Is this what you wanted?"_

_Harry couldn't talk even if he knew what to say. He just nods, his vision blurred by tears._

_"I see." Serena takes Harry's hand and lets the locket fall on his palm. "I hope it was worth it" she says softly, her eyes sad but resigned._

_"I'm so sorry, I won't-"_

_"Hush, Harry. We both know Blaise doesn't do anything he doesn't truly want to do. And we both know this is bigger than us, is it not? Stay with him, will you? I need to prepare some broth for later, he'll need to drink a lot. He'll be alright, darling. He passed out from the loss of blood, but he'll be just fine. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."_

_Just before she closes the door, she looks at Harry once more, some darker emotion clouding her beautiful face._

_"I know this is not the end of it, and I know you'll probably get yourselves into bigger messes, and I know none of this is your fault. But, Harry... don't forget that you're bonded to Blaise. No matter what you think of him, he protected you that day and he will continue to do so to the best of his abilities. I would appreciate if you did the same for him."_

_And then she's gone, and the locket in Harry's hand seems to burn his skin, and Harry has never hated a simple object that much. Though, of course, it's not a simple object. He puts it on top of his birthday's gifts – the mere sight of them makes him want to throw up now – and slowly makes his way to the bed before kneeling on the floor next to it._

_He studies Blaise's ashen face for a moment and finally admits it to himself – he has never really considered the possibility of Blaise's being hurt. Yes, this morning he was worried about the other boy, that much is true, but a part of him has always been relieved to know that his friends were safe. If someone had to go the Ministry to steal that goddamn locket, then better Blaise that Ron or Hermione. Harry's gut twists with guilt and remorse. He's a monster, a heartless monster – and Blaise is looking so very young lying there, and suddenly Harry is reminded that the boy isn't much older than he is._

_But the thing is, he has never doubted Blaise's ability to succeed. The dark-skinned boy always appears so confident, so sure of himself, that Harry has not even imagined that something could really go wrong. In his naivety, he has thought that Blaise would find a way to steal the Horcrux without anyone the wiser, like the clever and charming and devious Slytherin he is. Harry may not trust Blaise, but he's not stupid enough to deny that his Bonded is very capable._

_And maybe it's time to trust him, at least partially. It's clear that Blaise really wants him to succeed, even if for selfish reasons and whatever further motives he may have – and it's clear that Harry needs him. He won't win this war alone – hell, he won't survive a week on his own._

_Their goal is the same, and in that they could be – allies, at the very least. Partners in crime, so to speak. And he'll do his best to make sure that Blaise comes back to his mother in one piece, when it's all over._

_Harry remains on his knees for a long time, and the pain in his legs is a welcome form of punishment. When Serena comes back with a steaming bowl of broth, she has to help him stand up and sit in a chair because he can't feel his feet anymore, and she scowls at him and mutters in Italian under her breath, but her eyes are soft again._


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **Hey, new chapter! Hope you like it, let me know either way, you know that reviews feed our muses ^^

Mine is starved.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"What happened?" his mother asks, and Blaise sighs.

Since he's been awake, his mother has been fussing over him with bowls of broth and endless words of endearment in the weird mix of Italian and English she speaks whenever she's stressed. And Harry has sat in the chair of Blaise's desk, silent and blank faced. Blaise looks at his mother again, wincing as the sudden move makes his head hurt.

"Mum... you know I can't tell you anything." She frowns and he gently touches the silver pendant on her chest. The one he gave her the day he went to the Ministry to fetch Harry. The one that is in fact an emergency Portkey to distant relatives in France, should things turn sour. "It wouldn't be safe."

She snorts and kisses his brow.

"Sometimes I think I raised you too well, _caro mio_. Don't move of that bed just now will you?"

"I won't."

"Good. Rest, then."

She leaves the bedroom without looking back and Blaise feels bad for making her worry so much. She knows why he's doing it, though, and he knows it's for the best. There is no way he would let his mother live in a world where Death Eaters roam free and evil men decide of your fate. Blaise rearranges the covers around himself – he's cold and tired.

"Will you stop sulking over there?"

Green eyes meet his and Harry opens his mouth before shutting it just as quickly.

"Is it the thing you were looking for?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"So. What happened?"

"Everything went according to plan, actually. I met with that pompous arse from the International Magical Cooperation and then I managed to sneak into Umbridge's office. I saw her going down with the lifts earlier so I was fairly sure that she wasn't in there. Her tastes in decoration are as horrible as they were in Hogwarts, by the way. The locket was in her desk. And…"

Blaise hesitates and Harry's frown deepens.

"What?"

"She's got files. About you. Your friends. The Weasleys, and a lot of people I assume are part of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Files?"

Blaise sighs and leans back against his pillow.

"Yes. Pretty detailed files, actually. And I've got a nice one myself."

"You too? Shit. I'm sorry."

"It's no big surprise. Anyway, I found the locket and tried to go back to the atrium, but I met Yaxley in the lifts. That slimy bastard. Started to ask all kind of questions about you and our bonding. He made some comments that were really out of line. I didn't even answer him but he must have seen something on my face, felt that I didn't agree... I don't know. Next thing I know, he's running after me in the Atrium and jumping with me as I Flooed away. I ended up at the Leaky Cauldron, ran out and Apparated away, but he must have caught my arm just as I did. I was distracted and, well I got Splinched. That's it, really."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. I'm not getting back there anytime soon, I'm telling you."

"I'm-"

"If you say that you're sorry once more I'm going to hex you. And since I'll have to use my left hand, it could go wrong."

Harry shakes his head, but there's the faintest smile on his lips and he seems to relax a little.

"What have you been studying?"

"What?"

"Those books, on my desk."

"Oh! Yeah. This one is Hermione's gift, actually. A book on Dark artifacts. Pretty interesting, in fact. And this one… You remember that she said Dumbledore left us things in his will? Well this book was for Hermione. I think it's a children book, actually. I've never seen it before, and I've no idea how it's supposed to help."

Harry hands him a hard-covered book and Blaise grins. _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

"You were raised by Muggles. I keep on forgetting it. It's a very popular children's book. A bit like fairy tales for Muggles, I think."

"Well, it's useless. I have no idea why Dumbledore left us this. He gave Ron a Deluminator, apparently. I mean, yeah, it's kind of cool, but, you know… What help are these things? I don't understand."

Blaise watches the other boy for a moment, taking in his defeated posture and slumped shoulders. His face is pale and he's nervously playing with his fingers. Blaise knows he has to chose his next words carefully.

"Whatever one may think about Dumbledore, the man wasn't only a great wizard. He was smart and he was kind of… devious. It might not be obvious, but I'm sure there's something about those objects. And you'll find what it is with time."

"I don't have time for that old fool's riddles! I don't-"

"What did he leave you? I assume there was an object for each of you."

"There was. Only Dumbledore left me Gryffindor's sword, and the Ministry didn't want me to have it. Said it wasn't his to give. The swod is still in Hogwarts, and with Snape as Headmaster there's no way I'll ever get it."

Blaise raises an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't be so sure. Anyway, do you know why the sword?"

"No. I used it once, actually, but…"

"You used it?"

Harry scratches the back of his neck and flushes.

"Yes."

"Care to explain?"

"Well… Remember what happened in our second year? The Chamber of Secrets and all that?"

"Yes."

"I killed the Basilisk with Gryffindor's sword. Actually it was Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, who brought it to me with the Sorting Hat."

Blaise blinks.

"Okay. I'd like the full story later, if you don't mind."

Harry smiles a bit sadly and nods.

"So I guess Dumbledore wanted you to use it again."

"Yeah. Maybe I could stab Voldemort with it or something. Oh, wait, no, you can't kill him until - I mean… Shit."

"I'm not completely dumb, Harry. I guessed a while ago that those object were protecting him or something like that. Come here."

"What?"

"You're stressed out of your mind and I don't want to risk my mother's wrath by leaving my bed, and that means I'm stuck here. Since you don't know the Tales of Beedle the Bard and I wouldn't mind reading them again, I'm going to read to you. So come here."

Blaise pats the empty space next to him and wiggles his eyebrows. Harry rolls his eyes but stands up all the same and carefully sits on the bed.

"Lie down. Don't argue. There."

For a while, there's only Blaise voice echoing in the bedroom as he reads the stories of his childhood, silly ones and more meaningful ones, while Harry listens in silence, lying next to him with his arms crossed under his head.

As he turns the last page, Harry's asleep next to him and Blaise feels like he's missing something important. He closes the book with a sigh and puts it on the floor before carefully shifting his body until he's lying on his bed again.

Harry's deep and steady breathing lulls him to sleep before he can find whatever it is that is bothering him.


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **I am terribly sorry for the lack of updates on this particular story... It's been a rough time, and for some reason I hadn't the will or the envy to write this anymore. So, well, anyway, here's a new chapter. It's a bit short, I know, but I figured it was better that nothing, and it's been so long that you might want to reread the previous chapters...

Here you are!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Blaise wakes up feeling stiff and sore. And his head hurts like hell.

He's warm, though. Harry's still lying next to him, awake and... playing with a Snitch?

"What are you doing?"

Watching Harry flail ridiculously as he tries to simultaneously catch his Snitch and sit up is highly entertaining. Merlin, but the boy can be clumsy. It's a wonder he's so graceful on a broom, Blaise muses.

"Fuck, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Blaise snorts and then winces as it makes his head hurt.

"How are you feeling?"

"Not so bad, all things considered. A bit sore and I've got a mean headache, but it could be worse." Blaise rearranges himself on his pillows before jutting his chin in direction of the Snitch. "So, where did you get that?"

"It was the other thing that Dumbledore left me, actually. Even more useless than Hermione's book or Ron's Deluminator." Blaise frowns and Harry shrugs. "Yeah, I know. It's apparently the first one I caught in Hogwarts, but I don't see why Dumbledore would want me to have it."

"Sentimental reasons? The man was a Gryffindor, after all."

"Yes, well, it's not going to help me with anything."

Blaise hums and takes the snitch in his left hand, rolling it lightly between his fingers.

"Maybe not. Then again, Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, but he wasn't a fool. I'm sure there's a reason he left the three of you those things. They seem useless, harmless, but he probably counted on it. After all, he certainly was aware that the Ministry will watch you closely."

Harry snorts and sits up.

"You hungry?"

"Yes, actually I am."

"I'll be right back."

Harry flashes him a grin and scrambles to his feet, his hair sticking up in every direction and his thee-shirt rumpled from the night.

What a strange, strange boy he is.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"So, six of them."

"Yeah."

"Two gone, one in our possession, and four left to find."

Harry sighs and puts a half-eaten toast back into his plate.

"Yes."

"This is Salazar Slytherin's locket, and the ring you told me about was a family heirloom. The diary is somewhat strange, but I guessed its purpose was more important than its looks."

"What?"

"Think about it. Voldemort is both self-centered and obsessed with Purebloods. The ring, the locket… Both are valuable and historic objects. I'm willing to bet that at least some of the others objects you're looking for are similar."

"Another of the Founders' objects?"

"It might be. We should definitely look into it, in any case."

Harry seems torn and Blaise snorts.

"Okay, spit it out."

"What?"

"Oh, please."

The dark haired boy sighs and Blaise nudges him with his left elbow.

"It's just… Dumbledore and I came across some… memories. We think that Helga Hufflepuff's Cup might be one of them. Voldemort stole it from a witch together with the locket. Only, we had no idea where it was at the time, and I still have no clue right now."

"Okay. I rather doubt that Voldemort would use a Gryffindor's relic, but if he hasn't anything against Hufflepuff, then he shouldn't against Ravenclaw either."

Blaise frowns, trying to remember if he has heard of some particular object linked to Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Shit, those Ravenclaws aren't especially talkative, and they don't like mingling with other houses. I have no clue what it could be."

"We could ask Luna."

"Loony Lovegood?"

Harry actually punches him lightly on his uninjured shoulder.

"Hey, don't talk about her like that! She's a good friend. Very clever, and intuitive."

"And crazy."

"Well, I mean, yes, she's a bit strange. But she's sweet."

"I don't doubt it." Those sentimental Gryffindors. "So you think she could help?"

"Yeah. I could send her an owl at Hogwarts as soon as school begins. I mean, Gryffindors will probably be watched rather closely, but Luna…"

"Yeah. She seems harmless enough, I don't think anyone would lose their time watching her."

"So, that's that. I still have no idea how to retrieve Gryffindor's sword that Dumbledore wanted me to have, or how to destroy the locket."

"I think I know how to get the sword."

"What? How-"

"It's not important. I think we should do some research."

"Research?"

Harry is looking uncomfortable and slightly annoyed.

"Yes, Harry, research. I want to know why Dumbledore wanted you to have the sword, and how it can help us. And there's the book, as well. I think the Deluminator and the Snitch will play a role, but a practical one, you know? I'm sure the book is supposed to teach us something. There must be something we're missing there, something important. We should begin with the study, I've got several volumes that could give us a few answers."

Harry groans and buries his face dramatically in the pillows. Blaise rolls his eyes and stands up carefully. The room is spinning a little and he has to close his eyes and take a deep breath to keep himself from swaying too much. When he opens his eyes again, Harry is right here, his hands hovering near Blaise's elbows and his face scrunched up in a worried frown.

"You okay?"

"Yes, Mum."

Harry rolls his eyes and lets his arms fall to his sides.

"I won't catch you if you fall."

"Liar."

Bright green eyes meet his gaze, and the teasing atmosphere is suddenly gone, something deeper and more awkward feeling his chest instead.

Harry grins sheepishly, breaking the moment, and Blaise remembers belatedly that he's supposed to breathe.

"You're right, I would. But I would also tell your mother."

"That's low."

Harry chuckles and precedes him out of the bedroom, and Blaise shakes his head before following him.

Research.

Right.

That's what he should focus on. Fucking research.


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Mentions of past child abuse, violence

**AN: **The Tale of the Three Brothers, in italics, is an excerpt of HP Deathly Hallows and belongs to JK Rowling.

I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, let me know!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Three hours later, Blaise is beginning to think that Harry has been right. It's a fucking waste of time. Blaise closes the Tales of Beedle the Bard, sighs and opens it at the beginning once more. He's about to turn to the second page when he spots something he should have seen before.

"Shit, I'm an idiot. Harry, do you really have an invisibility cloak?"

"Did Malfoy tell you?"

"Yes. So, do you?"

"I do."

"Then I think I know why Dumbledore let you this book in his will." Blaise grins, showing Harry the first page of the book. "This symbol, here. It's the Deathly Hallows. You probably don't know the tale and you fell asleep before I came to it yesterday, but… let me read it to you."

"What?"

"Just humor me, will you? It'll make sense later."

"Alright."

Harry is looking slightly taken aback but he leans back against the back of his chair looks at Blaise with serious green eyes.

_"__There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across.. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure. _

_And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him._

_So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother. _

_Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead._

_And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility._

_Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination. _

_The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible. _

_That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The theif took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat. _

_And so Death took the first brother for his own._

_Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him. _

_Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her. _

_And so Death took the second brother for his own. _

_But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."_

"You think my father's cloak is… but-"

Blaise only smiles and point to the symbol again.

"This is the cloak. This is the stone. And this, here, is the wand. You have a cloak that seems very old and very powerful. Dumbledore left you this book, this particular book full of children tales. I'm willing to bet he wanted to tell you something. If your cloak and that of the third brother are the same, then it means that the Deathly Hallows are real."

"Fuck."

"Harry?"

"I… Okay, don't freak out now. I have… visions. Kind of. Anyway, I saw Voldemort torturing Ollivander. He was asking about a wand. I think it could have been the Elder Wand."

"Why would Voldemort want the Elder Wand?"

Blaise watches as Harry looks away and chews on his lower lip for a while. Finally, he seems to reach a decision and sighs.

"It seems that our wands are somehow connected. I think that Voldemort can't kill me with his wand. He must have wanted another one, and if he knows about the Elder Wand, he will want it."

"That's interesting." Blaise closes the Tales of Beedle the Bard and smiles.

"Well, I think we're going somewhere. We should search about the Deathly Hallows as well. It can't hurt anyway."

"It bloody well can hurt my head" Harry mutter under his breath, and Blaise rolls his eyes.

"Come on. Let's have lunch. Mum will have my head if I let you get any thinner."

"Hey! I'm not that skinny!"

Blaise barely refrains to blurt out something very stupid – not to mention very inappropriate – about the other boy's figure and only keeps on walking to the kitchen. Harry keeps on mumbling beside him and Blaise smiles, pleased to see him relax a little.

Serena has already ordered lasagna from Blaise's favorite restaurant and she smiles knowingly when they both sit at the kitchen table.

"Eat up, boys. I'll be out this afternoon, but I should be in time for dinner. Do you want me-"

"No! I mean… er… I think we'll manage to cook dinner. Please, don't trouble yourself."

Harry's cheeks are a deep pink and Blaise's mother, once more, melts on the spot.

"Oh, dear, it's no trouble. Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mum. Harry's right, you've been doing a lot for the both of us. We'll manage."

"If you're sure…"

"We are."

Harry smiles shyly and Serena gently pats his shoulder. Her eyes are a bit sad, and Blaise wonders what she's feeling from the smaller boy.

"Of course you are. Of course."

She kisses Blaise's cheek and waves distractedly before leaving the kitchen. Harry looks up from his plate, looking both embarrassed and defiant.

"I, uh, I didn't want to imply anything or-"

"Relax, Harry, it's fine. You're right."

Harry nods before busying himself with his lasagna, and Blaise is once more left to wonder why the fate of their whole world is resting on this boy's thin shoulders.


End file.
